


those stars were once again made

by chokechickadee



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has EDS | Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has Raynauds Syndrome, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Trans Martin Blackwood, blink and you'll miss it headcanons, jon is trans too it just doesn't come up, of the trans and disability variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29384946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chokechickadee/pseuds/chokechickadee
Summary: loss is hard. it's even harder when you don't get to process it for a year. but martin finally has the time, and jon is right there with him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	those stars were once again made

**Author's Note:**

> going into my birthday weekend sleep deprived because of this, but i am pretty proud of it. title is from sugar neighbors by dane terry.

something broke when tim didn't come back from the unknowing. that's hardly a revelation, but it's still always been deeper than any of them really let it sink in at the time. than any of them could.

when they found out they lost sasha there was still hope. everything was shit and it was undeniable but tim was there and they could work through it together. there was how ever long in the hallways, and while they didn't really do any processing (a bit to busy being actively traumatized for that), they still got to commiserate and that was something. certainly. 

but then there was fire and an explosion and the police and more things he'd never forget and what was supposed to be a great climax, an answer to at least one problem, became just part of the mounting tension. the sigh of relief he had ready for when elias was gone stayed half in his lungs for the next more than a year. 

but the lonely's fog wasn't the only one that fell off him when he stepped out. it was like waking from a dream. he had made it through today and today and today and now that was suddenly yesterday and he had to reckon that against the concept of tomorrow.

the trip to the cabin is only accessible to him in stills. in one he's on a train, laughing with jon about something and their fingers are centimeters apart while their legs are touching. in another they're stretching on the side of the road, though if that was when they were in the shitty van or the even shittier car he can't remember, and jon has his arm over his head and his shirt rides up to show his happy trail and martin couldn't do anything but stare. 

of the few things he can remember of the whole of it is contact. hands almost constantly and if not then ankles hooked or heads on shoulders or hand on a thigh while the other drove. and in the moments that they didn't touch, they rarely left line of sight. jon afraid of martin evaporating, and martin afraid of forgetting why he doesn't.

there are a lot of pictures of sleep in his head. they'd apparently both gotten very good at sleeping in the passenger's seat. several are just glances stolen over of jon napping while martin drives, several are his eyes opening to jon at the wheel. a few precious ones are from nights where they were able to shove off the fear for long enough fall asleep on top of each other in one seat, trusting the locks on the doors and the glass walls. 

but every moment since they've gotten here has felt hypersaturated. like he wanted as much of his memory to be this as possible. jon is so bright and he smells so good. his touch is every good thing at once, and his voice is rich and quite possibly the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence. he's gotten jon to laugh recently and it may just be the only thing he wants other than everything else about him.

all these things, the melancholy and ecstatic, fill martin's head at once and it's too heavy for him to hold up anymore. he drops it into jon's lap, and he knows jon moves his book aside to look at him, so he tilts his face up to him with his eyes closed because eye contact at this moment might just make him explode. 

jon takes the cue and threads his fingers, long, thin, cold and scarred, through martin's hair. he feels as the splints catch ever so slightly on his curls in places. he feels jon's fingers lift out, and barely has time to miss them while he turns the page.

martin waits a few of either minutes or moments before he gives an appreciative press back into jon's fingers and sits up turns himself about. jon tilts his head a bit before realizing that he has a whole martin en route to his lap. he lifts up his book and lets martin settle in with one arm over his shoulder and one around his waist, the bridge of martin's nose pressed against the base of his neck.

jon, for his part, brings his book back down and tries to continue reading and stroking martin's hair. martin nuzzles in somehow closer.

"am i going to be doing any more reading tonight?" jon asked, missing the mark on playfully annoyed and falling right into fond. martin just shook his head no, and shifted his weight to make it easier for jon to put his book down. jon ran his now free hand across martin's back, under his jumper but over his binder. they sat like that for a bit, time completely irrelevant in the face of each other, until martin broke the silence.

"i've been thinking."

"o?"

"yeah."

"may i ask about what?"

"all of it, really."

"that's quite a lot to think about. must be getting cluttered up there." 

martin smiled against jon, nodded his affirmation, and after a beat continued: "i miss tim."

"i-" jon took a pause "yes."

"it's like, i don't know enough about sasha to properly miss her, but tim, he was right there with us. he would have gotten it. he could have gotten through it with us. and- and not that you're not enough, but now it's just the two of us left from where we started and i dunno. three just seems like so much more than two."

it was jon's turn to nod, and nod he did as he mulled over martin's words. "y'know we were friends before all of this," jon waved vaugely with the hand not buried in martin's hair. "he dragged me out to pubs some nights, talked to me even when i was being a major prick. he's probably the reason i didn't spiral sooner that i did.

"and then we moved to the archives and i let it get to my head that was supposed to be his boss and for some reason that meant i couldn't be his friend and i stopped all of that right in its tracks. and then with the worms and the paranoia and all the things with, well, all the things with all of it, really. 

"that's what i regret most. that i didn't trust you when i had the chance. i don't know if it would have saved him or sasha but it certainly wouldn't have hurt."

it occurred to martin then that both of them were crying. jon's jumper (which was technically martin's) was uncomfortably wet against his face, and a tear must have dripped off jon's chin, because one fell on to the back of martin's neck.

martin reached for the mug of tea sat on the table and grimaced when he took a sip and it was cold. seemed as good a reason as he'd find to get up.

"c'mon, time for bed. i'll get us more tea, you go get comfy."

"let me," jon said, and with a peck on the cheek, started towards the kitchen.


End file.
